Whiskey Shots
by MaryManatee
Summary: The tension between Sherlock and John is thick enough to slice like fishing wire through a cake. To ease the tension, John gets Sherlock drunk. Johnlock Slash. NSFW.
1. Before the shots

**Whiskey Shots** by GoldThestral and MaryManatee

AN – This was actually an Omegle RP that my roleplay partner and I decided to doctor up a bit and turn into a fanfiction! Read, review, and enjoy!

**~*~**

Time was an odd concept at St. Bart's. Even for a hospital with death and birth running at the same pace, Dr. John Watson stood at a standstill. He never seemed to find the time passing quickly enough for his liking. Often, he found himself daydreaming involuntarily of something, anything other than the death that surrounded him. Usually, those thoughts went back to the war in Afghanistan. Other times, they went to the gutter. Sometimes they led him down a trail of shirtless-

"John."

Like that, John shot back to reality. He raised his head from the lab table, blinking groggily. He'd completely forgotten that Molly was in the room and they were even conversing. Sherlock had dragged himself in for another case and needed to use the equipment at Bart's for examination. Unsurprising, Sherlock had the gall to pull John out of his regular office hours and check-ups with patients for a session of staring at yogurt bacteria.

"John," Molly leaned close to her colleague with a playful grin. "Stop dozing off. Do you remember what we were talking about?"

John shook his head. "I'd forgotten we were even helping with a case today, so no." He mumbled an apology under his breath. Molly cleared her throat.

"There is obviously tension between you and Sherlock. I don't know what kind, but there is."  
Molly whispered as she handed John a cup of tea. "Do you see it at all?"

"What do you mean by tension? By getting on each other's nerves, you're perfectly right." John stared out blankly before him, gently sipping the jasmine blend.

"John, you're not that thick," Molly laughed a bit. "I mean sexual, I guess." She sighed and looked over to the tall detective who was on the other side of the room.

John shook his head, fanning himself with the collar of his jumper. John hated when anyone brought up "that" tension between him and Sherlock. Both of them knew it existed and it was the white elephant in the room. Whenever anyone mentioned it, John wanted to bury face in the sand and hide for ages.

He leaned to Molly's ear and whispered, "When did you start noticing...?"

Molly thought for a few moments. "Probably three or four months ago. I was always so taken with Sherlock's looks, obvious things blended into the background." Molly exhaled. She turned to John. "You agree, I assume?"

****Her words echoed within John and his eyebrows cocked. He turned to Molly and chuckled, "Sometimes. I'm not even sure if it's the looks that get me. I think I like the fact that he's..." John trailed off, staring at his flatmate across the room with drink in hand.

What _did_ he think of Sherlock? He could trust him and he could always-

John smiled meekly. "…someone I can trust. He's this odd mysterious figure, but I don't need to know all his thoughts to know that he trusts me and will always be there for me." The doctor turned to Molly again, "Do you still have feelings for him?"

Molly continued to look at Sherlock, but she turned to John. "I used to. Of course I still think he is attractive," she trailed off. "We aren't compatible though. I want someone who could talk with me for hours about how they feel." Molly cleared her throat. "He can't do that though for me. And, I have a little secret that you _might _find interesting."

"That's understandable. Sherlock is probably the furthest thing from empathetic you can get, after all." John shrugged, staring at his roommate again. Sherlock stood off near the window, passionately talking to Lestrade about some case. Nobody could make the git stop talking about his work even if they tried.

John's ears perked and he piped, "Okay, what's this secret then?"

Molly took a sip of her tea and leaned in closer to John. "A few years ago, Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, a few other people you wouldn't know, and I would go out almost every time we solved a case. A few drinks, you know? Anyway..." He eyes swiped the room; made sure no one was listening. "We invited Sherlock, once. He got liquored up pretty quick. He opened up like a soda bottle that was shaken up. All of these confessions nearly flew out of his mouth. About him experimenting in collage with other men and that he wasn't straight. He took Lestrade face and kissed it harshly. Once he realized what he did, he ran out of the pub," She sighed. "Lestrade was very understanding, but Sherlock never brought it up again."

Leaning close to Molly, he whispered, "Has he really never brought up his sexuality since then?" John's eyes grew wide. If anything, he wasn't completely shocked. Sherlock always complained of his boredom and how nothing thrilled him. The only thing he got off on was solving cases. John thought, in all honesty, that _nothing_ could excite the man other than mysteries. "I didn't know he claimed himself gay... He always struck me as experimenting, mostly asexual if anything."

John scanned the room and then tugged on Molly's dress hem. "Come with me to the kitchen. I have to ask you something." Dusting off his khakis, John took the small teacup and waited by the door frame for Molly. Molly got up and strode to the door.

John's heart rate increased, his forehead budding with small drops of perspiration. No one could walk into that room, especially Sherlock. John arranged himself so that he was blocking more than half of the doorway.

"Molly, do you..." He trailed off, swallowing hard. "I mean, how would... do you think I should make a move? I mean, for god's sake, I'm his flatmate. I can't let things get awkward between us."

Molly looked at John and inhaled deeply. "Get him drunk, and see what happens." She looked at John's face which seemed pretty blank. "I mean, this man is made of stone. You can't break his mental walls. But..." she turned her head and looked at Sherlock. "You said you felt it too. He does probably, as well. I know it's not very good advice but what else can you do?" She shrugged.

****"Has he even shown any signs? I mean, Maybe I'm just imagining things, Molly..." John nervously ran his fingers through his hair, fanning himself with his jumper collar again.

John exhaled, "I hope this isn't one sided, but... there's no other way to see other than this, right? I'd might as well try." He put his foot back down on the ground from the wall and put both his hands on Molly's shoulders. "You have to help me with this. Suggest we all play a drinking game or something. I'll go on a liquor run."

"Alright. Do you want to come with me while I ask him or shall I be more direct like 'we're doing a drinking game it's not optional' and such?"

"No, I'll come with; only seems reasonable. I'll be able to convince him to join, if anything." John replied.

"Okay."Molly walked out of the door way and had John following her. Sherlock looked up from the body and silently greeted the pair. "I'm almost done with this. I've written everything you need to know about the body on this pad of paper. "John and I want to ask you something." Molly said quickly. She nudged John.

****John cleared his throat, hand nervously scratching at the tag of his jumper. "We're going out tonight to celebrate; this case is practically over anyway. You never get out other than cases, Sherlock. Come for a drink or two."

Sherlock's eyes grew and examined both of them. "I suppose I could go for a drink. I haven't gotten buzzed since..." he looked at Molly and cleared his throat. "...for quite some time." He looked at the floor and back at John.

"We could go out or have myself run out and we can drink here, or, uh," Molly paused and looked around. "...in the kitchen! Yes. What do you think, John?"

"Here sounds good. You up for a drink, Lestrade?" John shouted over Sherlock's shoulder to Lestrade, who gave a small smirk and a quick nod of approval. "I'm in." He called out, turning back to his papers.

"Molly, grab some beers and anything that'll muck us up good. I need a drink." John turned to Molly, a mischievous smile of success gracing his face. "Have we anything to start with while she's out?"

"There is some whiskey in the pantry." Molly grinned as she said it. "I have some pretty difficult days around here. Start off with that and I'll run to the store across the street." She blew a kiss and walked out of the door.

"Johhnnn. Go get the whiskey, please." Sherlock yelled as he sat down at a table in the kitchen.

**"**Oh, stop whining. Lestrade, can you grab it for me?" John called out over his shoulder, Lestrade still gazing over papers from the crime. His attentive look quickly turned sour.

"I'm not your bitch - you're closer to it, anyway." John sighed heavily and grabbed the large bottle of whiskey from the cuppord with three shots glasses. "What do we feel like playing today? Or do we want to call anyone else over to celebrate too?"

That grabbed Sherlock's attention.

"Let's not. I think we're a good quartette to drink with." Sherlock rose up and grabbed a shot glass. He clinked his glass with Johns and they drank it while they kept their eyes locked onto one another's.

****John grinned, the rush of whiskey feeling welcome. He hadn't had a drink in months. It was not like he drank much in the Army; Afghanistan was a dry country after all. But his mouth was far from dry when he locked eyes with Sherlock, their locked gaze as they took communal shots.

"Person who thinks they've done the most for this case grabs the bottle first on three...two...one!"

Sherlock grabbed the bottle first and laughed, "Ha! The world's only consulting detective wins again." He grabs the shot glasses and pours another round of shots.

"Lestrade! Come over here, we're drinking and you need to lighten up. Coming from someone like me, that means a lot," Sherlock laughed and poured the shot down his throat.

Lestrade sighed. "Just like old times though, right?" He let out a small chuckle as he pulled up a chair to their table.

"Try not to get too liquored up like last time, eh Sherlock?" John smirked mischievously, eyeing Sherlock as he poured himself another shot. "Don't hog all the liquor. Pour me one too."

"We are playing drinking games yes?" Sherlock saw the two men nod. "Okay, let's play "I've never". You say something you haven't done, and if you've done it before, take a shot. We used to play this all the time in college..." his voice got quieter towards the end of the sentence. He looks up. "Alright, who goes first?"

"I'll go. God, my friends used to play this in grammar school." John laughed, rotating his shot glass quickly between his fingers. His innocent smile turned to a devious smirk. "I've never had a crush on a close friend."

Lestrade slammed his hand, griping in defeat. "I'll admit; it was high school!" Filling his glass, he downed at shot for himself. John kept his eyes on Sherlock waiting for his answer.

Sherlock thumbed his shot glass and finally took a shot. Lestrade and John were looking at him like he was supposed to say something. "What? Most of us had at some point."

John smiled to himself. Sherlock was only three shots in and already talking. He couldn't wait to see the look on Molly's face as soon as he texted her to the details.

Grinning wildly down at his phone, he received two very confused stares from Lestrade and Sherlock. "Oh, just messaged an old friend." John physically waved it off and they returned to their game. "Sherlock, your turn."

"Alright," Sherlock said it like he was laying down the law. "I... have never," He stopped like it was a climax of a story. "Never smoked pot."

He started to laugh. "Other drugs don't count but pot does." Sherlock took a shot. "That one was just for fun."

"Oh, come on!" John burst into chuckles, slowly nursing his shot. "We've all done that." Lestrade nodded methodically in agreement, downing a sip of soda for chaser. "Have to admit that one was a really stupid."

John leaned his arm on the table, staring Sherlock directly into his cold eyes and challenged, "Think of something better to make up for that shitty question."

"Alright."Sherlock said staring back at John. "I...have never had shower sex." He eyed both of the men and laughed.

John flushed a deep red. Past girlfriends had always made mention of it, but he had always been kinkier in the physical bedroom with them. John locked his gaze with Sherlock, eyes sparked with sexual intrigue. Neither man picked up their cup.

"Well, we all have very vanilla sex lives." Lestrade smirked, leaning back in his chair.

He slowly drew out, "I have never... been claimed as kinky." His eyes scanned the room and then Greg took his shot. The booze was honestly starting to get to him.

"Really?" Sherlock's eyes sparkled and he hit Lestrade on the arm. "You are such a dog, you know." He hiccupped.

He looked at Johns eyes again. He was talking to both of the men, but you would've sworn he was only talking to John if you saw them from afar. Sherlock felt the alcohol cloud his mind. "Alrighttt... who is next? Make it interesting. "

John smirked. He knew the alcohol was starting to get to Sherlock. The man hadn't had a drink in so long that he was already dizzying after only 4 shots. Time at Bart's really did move in an odd fashion, especially when drinking. Quietly downing his shot he forgot to drink in the last round, he slammed his cup down and shot Lestrade a smirking glance. "Greg, your turn."

Lestrade cleared his throat gently, grabbing at his neck collar. He exhaled quickly. "Okay then. I've never kissed my boss!" His laughter started to fill the room.

_'What a cheap shot.'_, John thought, keeping his eyes locked on Sherlock. He couldn't care less if Lestrade found his staring odd or just typical drunken behavior. He felt the tension pulsating between him and Sherlock hypnotizing.

Sherlock tore his eyes away from John and gave Lestrade an evil eye. None the less, he took the shot glass and drank it down in one gulp again. He began to stare at John again.

"John, did you know I made out with Lestrade quite some time ago?" Sherlock shook his head profusely. Sherlock sat and thought for a few moments. "Come to think of it, I've never told you I fancy blokes." He took another shot. "Lestrade knows, damn right."

Lestrade shook his head, laughing under his breath. "By God, was that a long night..." He trailed off, gently fiddling his drink between his pointer fingers.

John stared at Sherlock with dead eyes, until he remembered that he _wasn't_supposed to remember that he was gay. "Oh! No, you never did tell me." John did his best to look surprised, eyes wide, shifting himself back in his chair a bit as he stared at Sherlock. He was on his 6th shot and it had only been a half hour. John reached out and gently placed hand upon Sherlock's shoulder, squeezing for emphasis.

"Um, Sherlock? You've had a lot to drink already. Molly's not even back with the rest of the liquor yet. Try to pace yourself, okay? Besides, it's your turn."

"All right, all right," Sherlock mumbled. "My turn. So, I have never..." He thought for a moment. "Had sex in public." He interrupted himself. "Wait! No, sorry. Scratch that. I have never given oral sex." He turned to look at John again. Lust and alcohol clouded his eyes.

"I can't imagine you'd be much good in bed if you've never given oral." John casually chimed, turning away from Sherlock to grab his shooter, quickly drinking his fifth shot of whiskey. He felt the floorboards slightly shift beneath him and his field of view slightly turn. Sinking into his chair and closing his eyes, John knew he was borderline drunk. He had always been a well-mannered, coherent drunkard... from what he could remember and the stories his uni friends told him.

Ringing suddenly erupted in the room. Greg snapped to attention and pulled out his phone. After reading the text, Greg shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.

"Sherlock, John, I had great fun, but the lawyer needs me to come and fill out some paperwork immediately." Greg sighed deeply.

"Divorce courts'll do that to you." John nodded slowly, looking up at him with a tiny smile of appreciation. "It was fun. We should grab a drink again soon." Greg nodded with a soft smile and walked to the door.

"Oh, and if you two are going to shag, I suggest you do it before Molly gets back."

And with the tug of a suit, Lestrade was off and gone.

"Goodbye, Greg. I'll text you tomorrow sometime." Sherlock said as he waved him away. He looked at John.

"Not very good in bed, now? Because I have never given oral sex. Want to hear why I've never blew a guys cock?"Sherlock leaned over and got closer to Johns face. "Its because everyone can't get their mouths off of mine."

He sat up and eyed John. He wanted to see how Johns face reacted.

John blinked, slightly shaking his head in a nervous reaction. He hardly knew what to say. Hell, were they even playing the game anymore? Sherlock was so close to him, he could smell the whiskey on his breath. "How many men have you slept with, Sherlock?"

"Thirteen or fourteen. I got around in college" Sherlock answered, unphased. "I've gotten oral sex from more though," Sherlock sighed.

"I haven't had sex in over a year. It gets so frustrating, sometimes. You know?" He scratched his head. "And you, John? How many people have you slept with? I'm curious, I really am."

Christ, did he get around. John was known for having flings, although unintended, with women in three different continents. The military had its benefits. His relationships never lasted long, though, but the sex was always fantastic.

"I've... gotten around." John squinted his eyes in thought. With a small tilt of his head, he answered, "I'd have to guess around 10 or 11. Relationships never lasted long, though. All 'em left after they were done using me up."

John sighed, taking a small sip of his liquor again. He forgot that he became slightly more emotional when drinking.

"I'm sorry about that, John." Sherlock looked at his phone and noticed a text message. He read aloud," Sherlock, I can't come back to the hospital. My brother got in a car accident. I'll talk to you later. Have a nice night. Molly"

He shrugged. "We better get home. We can continue this little..." He started moving around his hands like he had a phrase on the tip of his tongue. "Oh, I don't know? Two man drinking party back home."

"That sounds fine to me. Let's grab a cab then. We're in no condition to walk home this drunk." John shook his head, staring down at the floor.

"By God, I hope he's alright. I'll check on her tomorrow morning if she shows up for work, okay?" The doctor grabbed the bottle of whiskey, placing it the large coat pocket of Sherlock's coat and patted it.

"Alright, let's go home. I'll pay for the taxi." He pulled on Sherlock's coat sleeve, leading him out to the street and hailing a black cab.

They two drunkards stumbled into the back of the taxicab, John's eyesight beginning to steady. "221 Baker Street." John asserted and the two drove quietly towards home.

**~*~**

Please read and review. We love critiques, so stay tuned for chapter two!

~MaryManatee


	2. After the shots

**Whiskey Shots** by GoldThestral and MaryManatee

AN –Thank you so much for all the views and reviews! We love your opinions. Get ready for a trip to Smutland – here's chapter two. NSFW and rated M.

**~*~**  
It was quiet the whole way home. Sherlock was thinking about everything that happened tonight. When he drank, he was conscious of what he was saying, but he had a difficult time filtering.

Sherlock noticed the cabbie stop. "Thanks for the ride." He gave the cab the money and opened the door for John.

"You-you can get it next tih- time." Sherlock hiccupped. He watched John walk up the stairs to the flat. "You have a real pert arse, you know that, right?" Sherlock mumbled as they settled down in the living room.

John flushed, not looking back at Sherlock. John muttered a quick "Thanks" before opening the door for his flatmate and helping him walk in, settling him on the couch.

"Stay here, Sherlock. You're completely plastered." John took off his leather jacket, and without even thinking, he made sure his jumper was almost off one shoulder.

"So can I tell you a little something?" John sat down next to Sherlock on the small couch and uttered under a bright flush, "I fooled around with a guy once, back at uni. We were both pissed, so I never really brought it up to anyone. I can't say I didn't enjoy myself."

"You did, now?" Sherlock thought for a moment. "What did you two do when you 'fooled around' whith this guy?" He asked. His eyes told John he was eager to find out.

John shifted slightly in his seat. "We, um, tossed each other off. Sucked each other, a bit of this and that. You know."

He looked next to him at Sherlock. His eyes were almost full of... fear?

"John? You went to Birmingham University before medical school, am I correct?" Sherlock asked. His voice cracked.

"I did. Why do you ask?" John cocked his head in confusion.

Sherlock sighed. He looked into Johns face. Sherlock was drunk, but he spoke the words of a sober man.

"I had this friend. Well..." He paused and thought for a second. "He was more of a travel companion. During the weekends, we would go to the other universities and pick up other men our age to have a quick hook up," Sherlock's face looked dazed like he was back in time.

"I went to Birmingham Uni for a weekend with him. We went to this pub, and I forgot what it was called, but I picked up with straight bloke. He was very attractive and contrasted very well with me. I got him drunk, and he was opened to almost anything. He was going down on me in his flat, and he said 'I've never been with a man before, so I want to try some things," so he sucked me off. I gave him a hand job and fingered him. Now that I'm thinking of it..." Sherlock sighed and turned to John.

"I'm picturing that young bloke in my head, and he looks an awful lot like you."

"What time of year? I remember it was New Year's..." John furrowed his brows, his fingers pressed firmly against his temples.

_'Think, John, think.'_He commanded himself, tightly shutting his eyes, trying to remember the man he slept with. "I remember he was tall...a handsome chump. Surely, he got lots of women or men or whatever in his free time. Bloke had dark curly hair, and he had a-" John's eyes shot open, his mind racing in flashbacks.

John vividly reheard the moans and the anguished wails of pain as his drunken sex partner fingered him softly, stroking his member and sending John into a rush of drunken ecstasy. The young john in his mind reached up and ran his fingers through the unknown man's hair, seeing a tiny white scar that hid itself under the man's mop of curls. "He had a tiny scar on his hairline."

His voice wavered, inhaling shakily. "S-Sherlock, you don't have a scar atop your forehead, do you?"

Sherlock took the curls on the front of his head and pulled them back.

There, was a little scar.

"I, uh, got it when I was 10. Climbing trees… I fell out of one."

Sherlock looked absolutely puzzled. "We met before. I can't grasp that." He looked at John and smiled a drunken smile. "I fingered your bum. You didn't even know it was _me_. I didn't even know it was _you_."

His words turned to drunken slurs again. "I… justah, wow. John. That's so weird to think of."

"You're telling this to a straight man who happened to shag his future fruit of a flatmate." John shook his head, staring down and nowhere at the ground. He clumsily grabbed the bottle out of Sherlock's coat that was resting on the table, taking a swig.

"Want some?" John offered, holding out the bottle to Sherlock.

"By the way..." John smirked drunkenly. "I enjoyed myself that night. You weren't shabby to snog with."

"Yes, please." Sherlock took the whiskey that John handed him and gulped a swallow of it. "Trying to cope with your homosexual feelings for your flatmate with alcohol, John?"

Sherlock sighed. He looked at John and smiled. "It's alright. So am I."

"Sherlock, you..." John turned to Sherlock next to him who was still holding the bottle loosely in his hand.  
"I mean, I always thought you'd been eyeing me before, but you do feel for me?" John whispered incredulously, leaning slightly closer to his flatmate.

Sherlock sighed and took another swig of hot amber liquid. "Yes."

He looked into Johns eyes. "You're the only person that genuinely captures me. You distract me from my mind. The only thing that did that for me was drugs…"

Sherlock started to get teary eyes. "Do you know what it's like to look at anything and start mentally tearing it up? It's hell. But you..." He stopped and laughed a tear filled, alcohol induced laugh. "You make it go away."

John sat in awe, reaching out and running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "You did a number on me too, you know."

John diverted his gaze from Sherlock, his face a soft pink. "I'm haunted by nightmares. You know that damn well. I see gunfire, I see my friends coming into my base from battle. I've seen friends die and I see them die over and over again."

Tears streamed down John's face, his voice breaking the sobs. "Sherlock, you're my only distraction, the only thing that makes me forget that I could've tried harder to save them."

Sherlock leaned in for a kiss. It was sloppy. They were both crying. John kissed him back with a passion he hadn't felt in years. Compared to his girlfriends of late, none of them could even understand what he was feeling as he pressed his lips to his brilliant and insane flatmate's. It was sloppy, it was carnal, it was completely and utterly drunkard, but John was finally in bliss; he knew that Sherlock felt just as strongly for him as John did for he. They let go and just embraced.

"We save each other, John." Sherlock whimpered in a voice that was anything but masculine. "I was on a fast track to overdosing when I met you. Now look at me." He separated and looked into Johns eyes. "Now I'm just a crazy man who can't blame it on drugs. I'll have to blame it on you."

"Sherlock, you know I wouldn't let you go like that. You know me so much better than that..."

Sherlock pulled John into a deeper, more personal, kiss. He bit Johns lip and whispered in his ear. "Can we revisit that New Year's night, but maybe a bit more,_ intimate_?"

John flushed yet again, placing his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and pressing him back onto the couch. "Sherlock... I doubt this is right, but hell if I care."

John shook his head, smiling as he lowered himself onto Sherlock, his chest pounding against his new love interest. John reached his hands under Sherlock's purple button-up shirt, gently trailing his fingers down the tall detective's obliques to the belt of his jeans. His breath started hitching, letting his lips press themselves to Sherlock's muscular neck.

Sherlock moaned at Johns touch. He ran his hands down Johns back and found his way under his jumper. There were too many clothes involved for Sherlock's liking.

"Sit up." Sherlock growled. John did as he was told. Sherlock lifted John's jumper over his head. He looked over John's chest with lust. "I want you so bad right now." Sherlock said with a voice deepened by lust. He pulled John back on top of him as they crashed their lips together.

John exhaled deeply, turning his face away from Sherlock as he removed his jumper. "Sherlock, my body isn't what it used to be...My scars, I mean."

He spoke softly in disgrace. As a doctor, John never had to be as in shape as the medic teams within his battalion. After years of civilian life, many women still called him "buff" and was considered physically fit. This confused him, but he speculated it was no matter to Sherlock. But his shot wound in his shoulder attracted more attention than he'd ever find comfortable. Sherlock had seen it before; things, however, were slightly different now.

"I... hope you don't mind." John breathed out between kisses, unbuttoning Sherlock's dress shirt quickly and tossing it over his shoulder. John's fingers hungrily trailed down the chest of the man before him, longing.

Sherlock exhaled deeply as he felt John run his hands down his torso and near his pelvis.

"You're body isn't what it used to be? John, you're gorgeous. I can't get enough of you." Sherlock whispered into his ear. He reached down to John's zipper and began fumbling with it.

"Tell me to stop if you want to." Sherlock kissed John gently and began tugging his trousers down.

John smiled, lending Sherlock a hand in pulling his trousers off and setting them beside the couch. It was relieving to know that John didn't have to be humble of his body for once.

John slowly reached his hands to Sherlock's zipper, pulling his trousers to his knees. With the heel of his palm, he gently pressed against Sherlock's member, pulsating underneath the fabric of his boxers.

"Is this alright with you?" John whispered, leaving a gentle kiss against his cheek.

Sherlock slightly gasped and hummed in approval. "Everything is almost..." he paused. "Perfect. I don't want to do this on the sofa."

He sat up and grabbed John's hand. "Let's go upstairs, perhaps?" He purred in John's ear and nipped after he was done speaking.

"Lead the way." John chuckled up at the man before him, gently nibbling at his neck before following him up to Sherlock's room.

Sherlock lead John up the stairs to his bedroom. Right after he opened the door, he swooped John from his feet and planted a loving kiss on his cheek. He walked over to the bed and softly lay John over the covers.

He gently rose himself over top of John and looked him in the eyes. "I love you, John." Sherlock said quietly just before diving into John's neck and planting opened-mouthed kisses. "I always have… There's no fault in admitting that."

John smiled up meekly up at the ceiling, letting out gasps as he relaxed his body under Sherlock's touch. Never had he seen Sherlock be so romantic in any situation, but John didn't mind at all.

John reached his fingers to Sherlock's mop of curls, tangling his fingers and tugging back. "I'm sure you've realized I feel the same way by this point." He huffed out, staring up into his new partner's eyes. "Let's just have at this already."

Sherlock started grinding his pelvis into Johns. He took the waistband of John's underwear and pulled them down. John flushed as Sherlock removed his boxers, Sherlock did the same for himself.

Once they were both completely naked, Sherlock grabbed Johns cock and his and began rubbing them together in sync. John gasped loudly out as he felt his flesh come into contact with his lover's. He clenched his eyes, his breath rocking his body as he felt his entire body shaking in arousal. Their lips found each other once again. John let a moan crawl from deep within his chest, groaning deep into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock had to separate before they got carried away.

"Sit up against the head board." He stated to John.

John whispered the detective's name as he sat up and against the headboard at the command of Sherlock. John's hand was still tangled in Sherlock's hair as he massaged his scalp.

Sherlock started planting more open mouthed kisses on John's neck. He pulled away from John's neck and put two fingers in his mouth.

"Tell me that this is alright. The last thing I want to do is hurt you," Sherlock said as he inserted his first finger in John's entrance and started working it in and out.

A loud cry filled the room and sliced the night like fishing wire through cake. John wheezed heavily, taking his hands from Sherlock's hair and clutching the bed sheets beside him as if for dear life. His body ached with euphoria as Sherlock entered him. John closed his eyes and let himself sink into the familiar, yet distant feeling of pain and pleasure beneath him. It had been so many years, so many nights of dreaming it would happen again.

"Sherlock, this is..." John wheezed out, hardly opening his eyes to glance down at Sherlock. "Y-yes, this is quite alright... Harder." John demanded.

Sherlock was in no mood to tease; nor was he patient enough right now. He inserted a second finger into John and rolled his head back when he felt John clench around them.

For the first time in years, he felt young again. He felt like he was a 20 year old Sherlock fingering a 24 year old John. They felt like strangers, but it felt so loving at the same time. Sherlock inserted a third finger and started to stroke John's member while doing so.

Whiskey, ecstasy, and blurred decisions filled John's mind. For all he knew, he could have been crying out like a young man at a rugby game for Sherlock to please him fervently He could have been biting his lip hard enough to bleed, shaking at the touch of his lover at his entrance. But John had no idea; All he could feel was the touch of Sherlock on his cock and body as reality made a nosedive and euphoria took front seat.

John's body was slick with perspiration and desire. He felt young again; young, driven, and passionately stupid with the rush of liquid confidence in his veins.

"Sherlock..." John huffed out, looking down at Sherlock, "Let a bloke do part of the work himself, would you?" He let a small, cocky smirk grace his lips.

As John removed Sherlock's fingers from his entrance, he gently moved the sheets aside as he leaned down and, without warning, took Sherlock into his mouth. Moving his hand in rhythm along his shaft, John closed his eyes and sucked him.

Sherlock let out a whimper that sounded anything but masculine. This was something he wasn't expecting to happen tonight, not that he was expecting any of this to happen. Sherlock ran his hand through John's hair and started massaging gently. It took all of his will power to not jump straight into fucking Johns face. He bucked into John's mouth for the first time a minute into the blow job. He felt Johns throat seize up and surround his cock even tighter.

"So sorry, love," was all he could say. His mind still fuzzy with the whisky.

John pulled himself off for only a brief moment and smiled a whiskey-ridden grin. "I didn't mind. If it gets you off, I'm satisfied." He opened his mouth and took Sherlock's cock into his lips again, this time sucking more rapidly up and down his shaft.

John knew Sherlock. He needed something more thrilling than just a simple blowjob; He'd had more than he could count of those back in his day. John moved his lips from the head, achingly trailing his tongue down his shaft and taking a testicle into his mouth. Sherlock's eyes lit up as he felt John take one of his testes into his mouth. He was gentle, of course, but the sensation of John's mouth surrounding Sherlock's most sensitive parts was beyond euphoric.

John then trailed his pointer finger across his saliva left on Sherlock and, without warning, pressed it into Sherlock's bum and worked it in and out slowly as he sucked. John meant business and when he enjoyed the sex and never took it lightly. Sherlock practically melted into the bed when John inserted a finger into his entrance. His feelings of euphoria were so strong but confusing. He didn't know how he felt so good but he was sure he liked it.

John closed his eyes and melted into the taste of Sherlock in his mouth; it was better than any candy he'd tasted. He continued to switch from teste to teste, adding two more fingers to Sherlock's entrance.

"I don't know what you're doing but keep this up and I'll make you feel just as good," He mumbled. Sherlock could barely move.

And even then, John wanted Sherlock even more than their drunken college hookup. "Sherlock, just have your way with me already." John said in exasperation. He'd stopped sucking Sherlock at this point, teasing him just a little further than he already had. He wanted every crevice of his lover's body inside him. "I'm ready when you are." John stated simply, looking up at his partner with drive; this was it.

"It's about time you're done with your bloody torture," Sherlock growled. He took Johns lips in a ravishing kiss, pressing Johns back to the headboard. Sherlock took Johns legs and put them over his shoulders. He pushed two fingers into John and began scissoring them. John let out a small whimper of defeat, throwing his head back against the headboard with Sherlock's following.

Sherlock tore his face away from John's lips. He added another finger and whispered in Johns ear, "I'm done with teasing… Sorry about that, love." He looked down and positioned himself into John's entrance. He got all of his length in one swift movement. He had to wait for a second before he began moving; the pleasure was nearly too intense.

John had never experienced anything quite like having Sherlock inside him. The sensation was so powerful that John had to keep his muffled string of moans behind a bitten lip.

"Sherlock," John growled lowly, "I see why you fancy men now."

He reached his arms up, hands grabbing at Sherlock's firm biceps. He needed a sturdy grip and both of their bodies were coated in perspiration. John felt his nails dig slightly into Sherlock's skin as he began to move inside him. Cries sliced the room and John felt his body light on fire, his cock growing stiff underneath as he reached up for an intense and passionate kiss.  
Sherlock made sure the kiss was harsh. He started to move inside of John quicker with every thrust. This was defiantly the best fuck he has ever had and given. Sherlock had felt Johns bobbing erection on his stomach, sticky with precum.

John was tight, but not tight enough that Sherlock was worried about hurting him past the pleasure sting that all men get the first time they bottom. Sherlock's member was slim and long; very much like himself. He knew how to drive John crazy and John knew just how to take it.

The two weren't even being conscious about the noises they were making. It was like groan zone in the bedroom. Sherlock bit John's lips and separated as he continued to buck into his new lover. John closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the man penetrating him, hiding roaring cries behind closed lips.

Sherlock noticed Johns bobbing erection between them and took hold of it.

The room felt burning with hot sticky sweat. John couldn't tell the difference between his precum and the perspiration upon his body. All he could feel was the soak of pleasure and Sherlock's fingers wrapped around his member as he let out muffled cries and felt himself tighten even more around Sherlock's cock.

John had never felt this exhilarated with sex with any woman. He'd traveled to three continents and had his fill of girls since his uni days, but none even came close to satisfying him the way Sherlock was at that very moment.

John reached up and tenderly ran his fingers through Sherlock's unmanageable curls, gripping as he reached the nape of his neck and tugged slightly with every thrust. John could feel himself quickly closing in on a climax, despite his normal stamina in bed. John's breath sputtered and his cries grew to sirens; he was close and Sherlock knew it.

Sherlock lifted his face when he felt that both he and John were close to climaxing. He tired to lock eyes with John.

"Look at me when you cum," Sherlock growled. "I want to see what I do to you," He said as he thrusted into him deeper with every buck of his hips.

The room was on fire; he was convinced. It was hot and sticky, not clean or careful at all.

This was really what they both had needed. The tension had finally been vanquished between the two of them and even back at home, time ran differently. Time ran on how long whisky shots could circulate in the blood stream. And for that brief period of time that the whisky circulated in them, the eternities they'd spent together became a conglomerate of kisses, bodies, and physical memories left bruised upon skin.

Sherlock ran his finger over the tip of John's hot prick. Sherlock couldn't get enough of the sounds John was making, or how he reacted every time Sherlock hit his prostate. He knew John felt as good as him.

"Cum for me, John." Sherlock purred in John's ear. "You're close."

"Only if... you will, too." John choked out, his panting hot in Sherlock's ears. The room spun and breathed fire upon them. He was so close; he felt his prick budding with precum as his lover moved harder and faster inside him. John could feel himself rising and the wave of climax rushing forward. The wave pounced against him, rapping against his chest and throughout his entire body.

He barely had the chance to breathe in before his knees locked up. He gripped the sheets for dear life with his fingernails.

"Sherlock...!" John proclaimed as he finally burst, staring up into Sherlock's eyes. It was like someone had opened a dam, the hot seed shooting upon John's abdomen and sputtering onto Sherlock's. Sherlock was holding onto Johns hips for dear life when his lover climaxed. He felt John contract from the insides and felt a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh my God, John!" Sherlock shouted almost incoherently. He bucked his hips three times, and he finally came with a feeling of burning ecstasy. John watched his own semen trail down Sherlock's abdomen ever so slightly with a grin. It was those few moments of indescribable pleasure before the fire was tamed in the room and both John and Sherlock let small sighs of relief.

Sherlock fell onto John's chest and took his lips in a slow but passionate kiss.

"I've never felt anything, quite like this," Sherlock mumbled as he pulled out and scooted next to John; both of them still breathless. John lazily let his elbow fall upon his lover's chest, his fingers brushing the side of Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock smiled contently at John when he started brushing his hand on Sherlock's cheek. He cocked his head a tad to kiss Johns hand and resumed the position he was in.

"I guess that means at least something then, doesn't it?" John hoarsely breathed, a light cough coming from his chest. He had excited himself to the point of pushing his physical limit.

The air had finally stilled around them. All that was left was the beautiful calm of epiphany. John smiled to himself; they were in hopelessly gay love and he didn't give a damn who said what about them.

John chuckled, "And yet you've still never given oral..."

He popped an eye open when John mentioned giving head.

"No I haven't given head. We could change that, though," He turned and looked at John as a small smile grazed his face. "I'm too tired to act sexy right now." Sherlock whined.

Sherlock closed his eyes. He was still in a post-orgasm state. God, he pushed himself to the edge. Everything was so physical. All Sherlock wanted to do with the rest of his life was stay next to John in bed, with the air still slightly hot and smelling of both of them.

John let out a tired half-laugh. "I don't care. I'm not exactly pure sex appeal right now either."

Yes, everything was perfect in those small moments. Were it not for the fact that Mrs. Hudson probably heard their lovemaking from downstairs, the night would have been flawless.

John turned his back towards Sherlock and curled into a semi-fetal position. "Ah, we should fix that tomorrow. In the shower, too; I've never done that, either." John smiled, closing his eyes. He lifted his head slightly over his shoulder.

He scooted himself back against Sherlock. Warmth flooded him like a broken dam as a tired smile grazed his lips. He popped an eye open and paused. "So we tell Molly in the morning or keep this hush?"

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and sighed. "We could tell them in the morning," He started to shut his eyes. "They already half know everything. None of it has really been confirmed."

_'Tonight went much better than expected'_, Sherlock thought. He was a little buzzed and started to feel a hangover sneaking over him. Sherlock kissed John's neck and started to drift to sleep before mumbling.

"Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

They both shared the best sleep they'd ever had.

**~*~**

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to collaborate with either of us as writers or roleplayers, please email me at mary. .

Thank you again!

~MaryManatee


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